


Deja Vu (All Over Again)

by DizzyDrea



Category: Castle, Numb3rs
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 16:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate thought she'd gotten Billy out of her system. Turned out not so much, but that was probably a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deja Vu (All Over Again)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was supposed to be porn without plot, but then a plot sneaked into it. Apparently my muse has never heard of porn without plot before. This was inspired by a drabble I wrote for the Numb3rs100 comm on LiveJournal called [While The Cat's Away](http://archiveofourown.org/works/333907). It's not necessary to have read that to understand this; just know that Kate and Billy have done this before.
> 
> Special Agent Billy Cooper—for those who don't know—was a Fugitive Recovery specialist with the FBI. He was the former partner of Special Agent Don Eppes, the team lead on the Violent Crimes Unit at the FBI's LA Field Office. Billy appeared in a single episode of Season One of _Numb3rs_ , called _Manhunt_ , but there are many, many stories inspired by that one man (and Max Martini, the actor who portrayed him). This is just one.
> 
> Disclaimer: Numb3rs is the property of CBS, Scott Free Productions, The Barry Schindel Company, Cheryl Heuton, Nicolas Falacci and a lot of other people who aren't me. Castle is the property of ABC, ABC Studios, Beacon Productions, Andrew Marlowe and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

"Detective Kate Beckett."

Kate squeezed her eyes shut as arousal flashed through her. 

That voice. 

She knew that voice.

She knew that voice like she knew her own name.

She'd never expected to see him again, honestly, which made spending the night wrapped around his body the easiest choice she'd ever made.

But if he was here now, in this bar where they were investigating a murder in the alley out back, that meant that he must be involved somehow. She sighed before turning around, fixing a smirk on her face.

"Special Agent Billy Cooper," she said, approaching him where he stood leaning against the end of the bar. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Oh, you know me," Billy drawled. "I love a good bar fight."

She looked him up and down, careful not to let him see. He looked the same as she remembered: broad shoulders, trim waist, long muscular legs. His red hair was still cropped short, and there might have been a few more wrinkles around his eyes, but she found that they added to his charm, framing his eyes and intensifying their already-stunning blue.

He lifted an eyebrow, and she cleared her throat, trying to squash the blush she could feel racing up her neck at being caught looking.

"What are you doing here, Billy?" she asked, trying to deflect his attention onto safer ground.

His slow grin made her gut twist, and just for a moment she worried that he might try something right here in front of God and the NYPD. Instead, he straightened up, flicking his leather jacket aside to reveal the badge and gun clipped to his belt.

"Been chasin' a guy from Indianapolis," he said, hitching his hands on his hips. "He's gone through three states and God knows how many different pros and drugs. Hit New York last night; disappeared into the city before I could get my hands on him."

Kate's gaze flickered around the room, taking in the uniforms talking to potential witnesses. There was evidence of a bar fight: scattered broken glass, overturned tables and chairs, and a couple of patrons being looked at by paramedics.

"What makes you think your guy did this?"

She saw Billy's eyes take the same tour of the room hers just had, watching as he assessed the scene with cop's eyes. When his gaze returned to hers, she felt the attraction between them as a visceral thing. Their eyes locked, and she couldn't have looked away if she'd wanted to. She felt herself get lost in the depths of his blue eyes, so like Castle's and yet so different.

"He's got a buddy," he said, holding her gaze. "A guy he did time with back in the day. The information I got said he hangs out here. What about your vic?"

Kate shook her head. "GSW to the chest. Guy by the name of Benny Franklin. The bartender says he's a regular."

"Benny Franklin?" He raised his eyebrow, a smirk on his face.

"Yeah," she said, her smirk matching his. "Witnesses say he got into a fight with two guys at the bar. Apparently they were arguing, but nobody heard what the argument was about. Benny pulled a knife, and the two guys dragged him into the back alley. When the bartender followed, he saw Benny bleeding, but no sign of the two guys."

"Who brings a gun to a knife fight?" he asked.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Whoever it was didn't like Benny getting into his business."

"You mind if I ask around? See if any of the customers remember my guy?"

"Just don't step on my investigation," she said.

He moved to brush past her, leaning close so his breath ghosted over her ear, a shiver working its way down her back. "I didn't last time."

She whirled around, but the door was already swinging shut behind him. "Damn," she muttered.

She so didn't need this. She hadn't been back that long, and she was still trying to get her legs under her, especially after the PTSD meltdown during the sniper case. And to top it off, it still felt like things were unsettled with Castle. They'd come to some sort of understanding, but her reaction to Billy suggested that she hadn't quite gotten him out of her system the way she'd thought. And while she'd discovered that Richard Castle had deep wells of patience, she didn't really want to test that, either.

But it had been good to see Billy; too good, she admitted. She closed her eyes as the memory of seeing him leaning against the bar washed over her again. He looked good in those jeans, but he'd always had a way of filling out his jeans that made her go weak in the knees. And the Henley he was wearing could be considered obscene in some circles with the way it clung to his muscular chest.

Taking a deep breath, Kate tried to calm her heart rate, accelerated at just the memory of what that chest looked like under that shirt. This was going to be a long case if he was going to be underfoot.

"Hey, wasn't that the Fed we worked with a while back?"

Kate opened her eyes to find Javier Esposito standing in front of her, one eyebrow raised. She gusted out a breath, annoyed that her life once more felt like it was spinning out of her control.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "He thinks a fugitive he's running down might be involved. I told him he could ask around."

Esposito huffed out a mirthless laugh. "Good thing Castle's not here. He'd be pissed."

"Yeah," she agreed. "What've you got for me?"

"Uniforms did a canvas of the area, but whoever our shooter is, he's in the wind," he reported. "Lanie says it's probably a large caliber gun. He's got defensive wounds on his hands, so he fought back. She won't know more until she gets him back to the lab."

"Okay, keep me posted," she said.

Just then, the door swung open, and Billy walked back in, making a beeline for Kate and Esposito.

"Hey, Esposito, right?" Billy asked, holding out his hand.

"Special Agent Cooper," Esposito said, shaking the FBI Agent's hand. "Good to see you again."

"Kinda wish it was under better circumstances," Billy said, smiling. He dropped Kate a wink before returning his attention to the other Detective. "You guys still working with that writer?"

"Castle?" Esposito asked. "He's still around. He's visiting colleges with his daughter this week."

"Wow," Billy said, smirking at the Detective. "Makes me glad I don't have kids."

"Tell me about it," Esposito said.

"I talked to the bartender," Billy said, turning back to Kate. "Turns out my fugitive is one of the guys Benny was fighting with."

"Great," Kate muttered. "So either it's your guy or his buddy that's likely our shooter. Why do you always bring trouble with you?"

"I don't do it on purpose, darlin'," Billy said, a slow smile curling his lips.

Kate shivered once more. The things he could do to her with just his voice. 

"This jackass have a name?" Esposito asked, breaking the moment. 

Kate didn't miss the raised eyebrow, or the question in Espo's eyes. Just one more reason to wrap this up quickly. The sooner they wrapped this up, the sooner Billy would be gone.

"Fugitive's name is Scott King," Billy said, not taking his eyes off of Kate. "His buddy is Bobby Truman. According to my information, Bobby lives somewhere in Hell's Kitchen."

"Nice neighborhood," Esposito said, scribbling in his notebook. "I'll get an address for him. Ryan and I can swing by and take a look, see if he's stupid enough to go home."

"Did your guy have a gun?" Kate asked, trying to corral her runaway thoughts. 

"Not when he left Indy," Billy said. "Doesn't mean he couldn't get ahold of one along the way. He's the kind of guy that knows his way around the seedier parts of town."

"Okay," Kate said. She tore her gaze away from Billy, forcefully reminding herself that they were working a case. That little voice in the back of her head reminded her that they'd wrap it up eventually. She told it to shut up. "Esposito, put out a BOLO on our two guys. Billy can get you any info you need on King. Then you and Ryan check out Truman's financials. See if you can figure out where else he hangs out."

"What are you going to do?" Esposito asked. His eyes flicked to Billy, and she just knew there'd be questions later, but she couldn't do much about that.

"Billy and I will check out his apartment," she said, then turned to Billy. "If that's okay with you?"

Billy's eyebrow rose. "You sure? I wouldn't want to slow you down."

"Come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'll show you how the real cops work."

Esposito whistled long and low. He shook his head and bid Billy farewell before leaving the bar. Kate took a deep breath. She was going to be stuck with Billy for the foreseeable future, and she'd just issued what amounted to a challenge. She had to be crazy. Either that or her hormones were melting her brain.

"You got your car?" Billy asked as they walked out of the bar.

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "I rode over with Ryan and Espo. I guess you're stuck with me."

"I think I can handle that," he said.

His voice had dropped an octave, low and gravelly, and she could feel it in her belly: that slow burn of arousal, banking and building. She groaned internally. She might not make it through the next few days.

~o~

They don't even make it two days.

That night, after chasing too many dead-end leads, he coaxes her into a bar, then into his car, and finally into his hotel room. As soon as the door shuts, he pulls her to him, taking her in a searing, toe-curling kiss that steals her breath and warms her body.

He doesn't let her think, doesn't let her stop for even a second because he knows if he does, she'll bolt like a scared rabbit. He's been hard since the moment he saw her walk in to that bar. He wants her; wants her more than he's wanted just about anything in a long time, and he's determined to have her, even if it is just for one night.

He's peeling off layers, like unwrapping a present, and the anticipation is thrumming through his body, making him drunk on her. They're all lips and tongues and teeth, hands slowly relearning bodies, evoking memories of the last time they did this dance.

He's got her down to just her underwear—sensible black, but lacy, and doesn't that just make his cock sit up and take notice—by the time he tumbles her back onto the bed. True to form, she's not going to just lie down and take it. She pushes up, crawling back to him and nearly ripping his shirt off, her hands caressing his chest, pushing all those buttons she found the last time.

He can't help but touch it when he sees the scar. He lifts his eyebrow as he caresses the round, slightly raised edges of the bullet wound in her chest. His hand drifts to her side, tracing the line that was cut between her ribs. He remembers something about a cop being shot—he'd been in Pittsburgh at the time, but he'd also been a little busy tracking an escaped murderer—and it's just now dawned on him that it was her.

He cups her cheek, kissing her gently before kissing a line down to the scar, pressing his lips to her skin reverently. He can feel her shaking under his hands, and he gathers her close until the storm passes. Finally, she pushes back, and that familiar gleam is back in her eyes. 

He figures it's the first time she's let a lover see the scars, and he's touched—honored—to be the first. He knows what it's like, and he doesn't take it lightly that she's exposed herself to him when she has no real reason to. But, the moment's passed now, and in its place is the vixen he remembers from their first encounter.

Within minutes they're both deliciously naked, and he's got her on her back, writhing beneath him. He takes a slow tour of her body, spending time teasing each and every reaction from her. Licking , nipping, kissing, he plays her like a fine violin.

When he finally slides into her wet heat, she's beyond speech, and he's not sure how long he'll be able to hang on. He sets an easy pace, determined not to rush this. He has no idea how long it'll be before he gets the opportunity to enjoy her like this again, so he plans to take advantage of the time he's got.

He pushes into her steadily, grinding down as she meets him stroke for stroke. When she finally tumbles over the edge, he can't help but follow. 

He rolls to the side, pulling her close as he tries to calm his racing heart. He'd forgotten just how good it had been with her. It's only been a couple of years, but he's been a lot of places in those years, not all of them good.

They don't talk; they never have. That's not why they're here, anyway. At least this time she didn't call out the writer's name. Of course, he didn't call out either, but then again, his life has changed dramatically in the last couple of years, so he's not sure right now who he'd be calling out for.

But those thoughts are for a different time. He kisses the top of her head, tugging the sheet up over them to stave off the chill. They'll sleep now, and probably go for round two in a few hours. And tomorrow they'll hit the streets looking for his fugitive, her murderer, once again.

And maybe, if he plays his cards right, they'll have one more night together before he fades out of her life again.

~o~

The phone ringing shocked Kate out of a deep sleep. Eyes still closed, she reached for the offending handset on the nightstand, thumbing the answer button without thought.

"Yeah," she said, voice gravelly from lack of sleep and too much sex.

"Beckett, we've got a line on the perp," Ryan said. "Turns out his buddy has a girlfriend. We're headed over there right now."

Kate sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. "Text me the address; I'll meet you there."

She ended the call without waiting for an answer. Tossing the phone on the nightstand, she turned to find a pair of blue eyes watching her.

"The boys got a line on Truman: a girlfriend. I'm headed over there now," she said, moving to climb out of bed. She hated the idea of doing the walk of shame, because she knew there'd be questions, but she consoled herself with the thought that at least Castle wouldn't be around to see it.

A hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist. Billy tugged, and Kate tumbled onto him with an 'oof'.' He tangled his fingers into her hair and pulled her down into a leisurely kiss.

When he pulled back, Kate had to shake her head a bit to restore some sense, drawing a smile to his face. "Knock it off, Billy. I have to go."

" _We_ have to go, don't you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, _we_ have to go. Now let me up so I can grab a shower."

"Wanna share?" He waggled his eyebrows, and she rolled her eyes again, smacking his chest for good measure.

"I'll be five minutes," she said. "You can wait five minutes."

"I don't know," he said. He closed an eye and looked at her appraisingly.

"Five minutes," she said, diving in for one last quick kiss.

She scrambled off the bed and practically bolted for the bathroom. Racing through her shower, she stepped out to find her clothes neatly folded on the counter, her bag waiting on the floor by the sink. 

She gave a soft smile. Billy would make a wonderful husband one day, and if she weren't already _involved_ , she might consider him. But she is involved, in a way she'd never intended to be with Castle. They aren't moving forward, but they can't go back either. Not that she'd want to, but she was in too deep to run now and she knew it.

She pulled herself together as best as she could, and between them they were ready to go in twenty minutes flat. They raced across town, pulling up outside the building just as Ryan and Esposito arrived.

They hit the apartment together, scaring the shit out of the girlfriend in the process. She stood, hands in the air, shaking like a leaf while three cops and a Federal Agent cleared the apartment room by room. When they were satisfied that she was alone, Kate and Billy set about learning what the girlfriend knew while Ryan and Esposito searched the apartment.

"You want to tell us where Bobby is, Trudy?" Kate asked, standing shoulder to shoulder with Billy while the girlfriend sat on the couch, twisting a tissue in her fingers.

"I don't know," Trudy said, her voice shaking.

Kate hated to press the girl—she hadn't known her boyfriend was in trouble—but time was short. The longer they had to search, the more likely that one or both of them would get out of town. They had precious little evidence linking the two men to the murder, but they were the only suspects she had, so the full court press was on.

"Trudy, I know you love him, but you need to tell us what you know," Billy said kindly. "You don't want to be involved in this. Bobby's in real trouble this time. We need to know where he is."

Kate was struck again by how gentle he could be. Like last night when he'd caressed her scar. She'd been afraid to show them to anyone—afraid to show them to Castle, that little voice in her head supplied—but the way Billy reacted had melted her heart. He'd been so sweet and gentle, almost reverent in the way he'd run his fingers along the raised edges. 

She'd almost cried, and it gave her hope that when the time came, maybe Castle wouldn't react as badly as she feared he would.

Snapping her attention back to the moment, she heard Trudy answer. "He called last night. He's with a friend, and they're planning to head to Atlantic City for a few days. He asked me to meet him and bring him a few things. That's all I know, really."

"Where did he want you to meet him? Kate asked. She crouched down in front of the woman, reaching out to touch her knee. "Please, Trudy. We won't hurt him; we just need to talk to him."

"The bus station, downtown," she whispered.

Kate swiveled her hips, looking up at Billy, who was already on the phone. Ryan and Esposito emerged, carrying a duffel bag with some clothes and money inside.

"Looks like he was getting ready to run," Kevin Ryan said, dropping the bag on the coffee table.

"Yeah," Kate said, confirming his suspicions. Turning back to Trudy, she smiled. "Thank you, Trudy. You've been very helpful."

"You—you won't hurt him, will you?" she asked in a small voice.

"We'll try, but it's up to Bobby how this goes down," Kate said.

Trudy nodded, and Kate pushed up, moving to stand next to Billy. "I've already alerted Dispatch and Security at the bus station," Billy said. "We should get moving so we'll be in place before they show up."

Esposito raised an eyebrow, looking to Kate for confirmation. She knew what he meant. They were all used to her being the one to call the shots, and while she still was, Billy had subtlely inserted himself into the team and exerted a certain amount of influence. He'd taken charge without forcefully taking charge. And Kate was so used to deferring to Billy's innate strength that she'd simply let it happen. 

"Let's go," she said, leading the way. She left instructions with the uniformed officers who'd shown up while they'd interviewed Trudy, then they headed for the cars.

~o~

She's hovering above him, hair cascading over her face, obscuring her from him. He doesn't need to see her to know how she feels, what she's feeling. It's in every line of her body, in the way she clenches around him on every stroke. She's riding him as if her life depends on it. 

He's got his feet braced on the bed, and he's slamming up into her each time she grinds down onto him. He can hear her moans, hear her harsh breathing, and he knows she's close. His hands are in constant motion, stroking her skin, tweaking a nipple, thumb pressing at her clit. 

They'd gotten to the bus station in record time, for a Thursday morning just after rush hour. And just as promised, King and Truman were waiting in the food court. They tried to run—they always try to run, and Billy honestly wonders when they'll figure out that they can run but they'll just die tired—but between the four of them, with an assist from a few uniforms, the two men were taken into custody with little fuss. After the foot chase.

They'd spent the better part of the afternoon on paperwork. Truman hadn't dumped the gun, preferring to hold on to it and dump it once they'd reached Atlantic City, and the ballistics had been ridiculously easy. So, Truman became Kate's problem, and King would get a free ride back to Indy. Everyone was, if not happy, then at least satisfied that the case had been resolved.

It hadn't taken long for Kate to suggest a steak dinner to celebrate. And after dinner—which, he couldn't help but notice, was at a little steak house a couple blocks from his hotel—she invited herself back to his hotel room for a nightcap. Which must be code for wild monkey sex, because that's the only way he can describe this.

He's working her body, drawing it out as much as possible for both of them. The only sounds in the room are coming from them, the soundtrack to a one night stand that's lasted three. Finally, he can feel her clenching around him. Her movements stutter, lose their rhythm. And then she's coming, and he's being pulled behind her, white hot lights bursting behind his eyes, whiting out his vision as the pleasure courses through him.

She collapses on top of him, breathing hard. He wraps his arms around her, stroking her back, tangling his fingers in her hair. He's breathing just as hard, so the less he has to move right now, the happier he is. Still, there'd been a desperate quality to the sex tonight, and it worries him.

"You okay, darlin'?"

She stiffens in his arms. They don't talk. They never talk. This isn't about that, isn't about connecting. This is about release. Except that he thinks she hasn't done this in a while, with anybody, and that worries him.

She rolls off of him, stretching out on the bed at his side, not touching but within easy reach.

"I'm—" she says, eyes darting around the room. "Yeah. I'm good."

He rolls to his side, propping his head in his hand as he runs the other one over her skin. He traces a line from her hip to her breasts, letting one finger trace the outline of the scar just over her heart.

"You haven't been with anyone since the shooting," It's more a statement than a question.

Her eyes find his, and he can see the scared rabbit inside. He scoots closer, pressing his hand over the scar.

She shakes her head. "I just—" Her eyes skitter away, and he can see the pain and doubt there. "I couldn't," she finally whispers.

"Hey," he says, reaching up and tipping her head back to face him. He settles his hand over the scar once more. "This scar is so much more than you realize. It's proof of your shooting, yeah. But it's proof of life, not death."

He can see her turning that over in her mind. She reaches up and her finger grazes the bullet hole in his shoulder, tracing the raised edges the same way he did with her scar the night before.

"I can't—how do you handle it?" she asks, meeting his eyes once more.

"It's gonna be hard to remember," he says quietly, "for a long time to come. But every time you do, remember that you survived. That's what that scar means. They tried to take you down, but you survived. And if you can survive this, you can survive anything."

She looks deep into his eyes, and a host of emotions play through them. He knows she'll still struggle with this—how can she not, when it almost killed her?—but in the end, he has faith that she's strong, the strongest woman he knows, and if anyone can get through this it'll be her.

Her hand slips behind his head, and she tugs him down into a slow, sweet kiss. They make love one last time, gentle, full of tender touches and soft sighs. And when they finally fall into an exhausted sleep, there's a small, contented smile playing on her lips. It's a memory he'll take with him for the rest of his life.

~o~

Kate woke by degrees, the early morning sunlight pouring into the room finally forcing consciousness on her. She stretched in the bed, feeling the pleasant aches only a night of really good sex can produce. Reaching out her arm, she expected to find a warm body, but encountered only cool sheets.

She rolled over onto her side, her eyes confirming what she already knew: he'd gone, sometime in the small hours of the morning. She closed her eyes and stretched again, a smile blooming to life on her face. Whatever else she and Billy were—and for the time being, she left the larger existential musings alone—they were good together, even if it was only in anonymous hotel rooms.

She knew she couldn't stay in bed all morning. She'd bet good money that he told the hotel manager to leave the room alone until after check-out time just so she didn't have to get up, but that didn't change the fact that she'd have to get up at some point. 

Billy was truly a good man. In a different life, they might have been more than just whatever it was they were to each other. But, she already had someone filling that bill, and he'd be back later that day. He'd be pissed that he'd missed Billy, or more accurately that he'd missed the chance to show off in front of the FBI agent.

Shaking her head, she pushed the covers aside, intent on getting up and getting back to her apartment. She hadn't been home in two days, and she desperately wanted fresh clothes and clean hair. Her eyes caught a slip of white paper propped against the other pillow as she pushed up on her elbows.

Reaching out, she snagged the paper and unfolded it. Another smile flitted across her face as she scanned the writing. It was from Billy, explaining that he'd gotten a call from his boss and had to head out to LA. But it was the last line that made her smile.

_I expect an invitation to the wedding…_

She laughed, long and loud. So, he'd figured it out all on his own. She suspected that Billy would be one of those friends that, no matter how long it had been since she'd seen him, it would be like no time had passed. He'd done her a favor the night before. She could feel it in her bones—a lightness that hadn't been there the day before. She'd have to send him a thank you somehow. 

Reaching out, she grabbed her phone and added a reminder. That done, she got up and headed for the shower, the note from Billy tucked safely in her bag. She might show it to Castle one day. Or not. 

Either way, it was a memory she'd treasure for the rest of her life.

~Finis


End file.
